Misanthropy
by PlummyPlums
Summary: What if Berk were much more strict with their hatred of dragons? What if Hiccup were completely rejected for his unwillingness to enter dragon training? What if there were more dragons than ever before, and he was determined to save them all? Rated T for mature themes.


Thanks to my best buddy Storm_Clouds_And_Starshine (who you can find on AO3 and tumblr) for writing this with me! We each worked on about half of the writing, and the idea is from night after night of finals-worn writers concepting stuff out. We hope you enjoy!

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Hiccup had really thought that he would kill dragons. He thought that he would be the viking his dad had always wanted, bringing home Nadder heads to display on his wall and sharpening axes with his teeth. But when he went to that first day of dragon training...he knew he couldn't do it. That poor Gronckle was obviously terrified, going after the teens around him like a cornered animal, not a predator on the hunt. How did no one notice that? Why was it that when he refused to hurt the thing, he was given weird, disgusted looks? It just didn't make sense.

Stoick had looked at him, full of disappointment, when he showed up the next day, no helmet on his head and saying that he couldn't kill dragons. Stoick had yelled at him, too, and had raised an arm as if to strike Hiccup - and Hiccup flinched. Another thing that he failed at. Vikings weren't supposed to flinch.

"I can't believe you're such a sniveling mess." Stoick growled, and Hiccup felt the lead in his stomach grow heavier. "If I hadn't seen you birthed with me own eyes, I would have doubted ye were of viking blood at all."

The lead grew heavier, and Hiccup tried not to cry. He was eight years old already, he was supposed to be stronger than this. "I - I'm your _son_." He said, voice quivering, eyes watering and vision blurred.

Stoick loomed over him, and with the distortion of the tears, he looked like more of a beast than any of the dragons that Hiccup had seen. "No. You're no son of mine - you will _never_ be my son." The viking then turned and exited, leaving Hiccup alone in the hut. Without his father there to see him, the boy fell to his knees and let those tears fall. Silently, of course. If his father heard him crying, who knows what he'd do.

Hiccup still had to go to Dragon Training. T would look bad if he didn't - he was the _chief's son_ and he'd gotten into it seven years earlier, because he was the _chief's son_. He couldn't make his father look bad. Hiccup didn't want to know what would happen if he did.

Dragon Training got better, and it got worse. Hiccup started staying back at the arena, claiming so that he could "get extra training". Instead he stayed with the dragons, tried to give them some positivity, any bit of light at all. But it also got worse as each day he discovered more horrors. A Gronckle, hearing destroyed and confused, not having been able to avoid the vikings and now enslaved to have loud noises shoved at her. She was a kind one. There was the Rumblehorn, an intelligent dragon that might as well have been human, who loved mackerel and had gotten captured when he had stopped for water. The two dragons that Hiccup called Night Terrors, who were around the size of two chickens, white with red eyes, and full of energy. The brother and sister hated being separated, and Hiccup quickly took the role of getting the dragons back into their cages, because he could 'accidentally' put the two in the same cage so that they might at least be near each other, like family should be.

One of the most heartbreaking sights was the two Monstrous Nightmares. A mother and child, most likely captured because the child had been unable to escape in time, and the mother had chosen to stay with her son rather than run away. She was the average orange-red of a Monstrous Nightmare, but her son was smaller than he seemed to be, with scales so dark a blue that they were almost black, and undercurrents of gold on his wings. Whenever the two were in the arena it was always separated, and Gobber used the two as a way to teach the younger vikings the best way to kill a younger dragon, and the best way to get out of a fight with a protective mother alive.

From a purely logical standpoint, this was a good tactic. Learning many different ways to fight a dragon was important, and the wide variety of fights they had would certainly help the future killers. From an ethical perspective, this was pure torture. Intelligent, compassionate creatures were being locked in cages and beaten on a daily basis. They may have been distrusting of him at first, especially the mother Nightmare, but they warmed up to him quickly when they realized that he wasn't going to hurt them. He discovered their personalities, their quirks, their _lives_. Dragons were barely animals, they were bordering on being people. And somehow, _none_ of the other vikings saw that.

That was okay. He'd let them think what they wanted. Hiccup would use what he learned from the dragons to "defeat" them, and he'd be the best in Dragon Training he had to be, and he'd find a way to free them. Hiccup was the only one who could help them all. So he would.

The night before he was supposed to kill the mother Nightmare (nicknamed Hookfang for her hook-like teeth), Hiccup snuck into the arena. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. But he was going to find a way to make it work. He'd stolen keys from one of the guards - it wasn't hard, just making sure they were drunk and then being careful with where he moved his hands. The dragons watched him in their cages, emotions ranging from fear to excitement to concern. He went by the cages, unlocking the ones from the very back first so that they would have more time to get free. One of these was Hookfang's son, who stuck nearby Hiccup rather than leave immediately. Every so often Hiccup would hear the noise of other vikings, or of patrols, and he and the dragons all froze until the noises stopped, and Hiccup went back to unlocking the cages.

The Night Terror twins, named Ruff and Tuff for their durability despite their mischief, both latched onto Hiccup as if he'd disappear when he unlocked them. That was alright; they probably needed a hug or two. He was getting closer to the front of the arena now, and he'd unlocked all the cages but Hookfang's when light appeared behind him. Hiccup turned to see Gobber, standing still with a lantern raised.

Gobber stared at Hiccup. Hiccup stared back. "Well, go on, then." Gobber said, finally. "I can't stop ye. Might as well pretend nothing happened and hope the chief doesn't find out that you did this."

With that said, Hiccup then unlocked Hookfang's cage, and she burst out of it with a roar, immediately grasping her son and clutching him close to her with her wings. Then, she and the other dragons still remaining turned, and launched themselves into the air, their wingbeats being the only sound in the night.

It was quiet for a few moments. Then, Hiccup turned towards the woods of the island. "I can't stay." He said this to no one in particular. It wasn't a question. Merely an observation.

"I can get ye a boat." Gobber offered. "It's the least I can do to make up for how I've stood by and let ye get beat on by the others."

Which was how Hiccup ended up in a small boat, with a week or two's worth of rations, and some clothes should he end up in colder weather. The air was frigid, but not more than it usually was. Somewhere around when the sky started to lighten, his eyelids began to grow heavy. Hiccup let them. He needed sleep. And if he ended up dying out here in the ocean, all alone, then at least he had done one good thing. The dawn came and the sun rose, and Hiccup closed his eyes and went to sleep.


End file.
